


Home, Sweet Home

by camerasparring



Series: Sex House [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Bottom Richie Tozier, Cause I couldn't help myself, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, Just basically so much sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Rimming, Smut, So much smut, Some angst near the end, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Top Richie Tozier, only a little, richie and eddie are married, this is the dirtiest thing i have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: Eddie crossed his arms across his chest. He was intrigued. Sex in every room of their first house together, the first place they’ve officially lived together, not one of theirs first, but always theirs, did seem like a fitting tribute to all their time lost.Alas, he accepted Richie’s dare as a win-win for both their dicks, their sanity and honestly, because it sounded fun.He had lived 27 years without much fun. Pure joy as a motivator felt rebellious, a hard lick of danger catching him in the abdomen and making his blood run hot. So after two days of nothing but unpacking, bickering and heavy lifting, Eddie’s ready to go with his instincts.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Sex House [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552978
Comments: 52
Kudos: 954





	Home, Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Heather, who asked why there was no fic of Richie and Eddie having sex in every room of their new house, so I felt the need to remedy that. 
> 
> Literally, this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written. It's 10k words of smut and some feelings and I loved writing it and I'm sad it's over. The working title for this was Sex House. PLEASE ENJOY DON'T JUDGE ME.

It didn’t start as a challenge. But Eddie and Richie are nothing if not competitive, at least with each other. Hell, they got together almost as a long game of gay-chicken, and it wasn’t until they were standing at the courthouse, marriage license in hand, that Richie off-handedly mumbled, “Okay, I guess you win, this is pretty great.” 

Eddie had smiled, up on his tiptoes to kiss his man, but he also felt a smug, satisfied sense of victory. For more than one reason. 

This contest was a little different in that they weren’t _ competing_, so to speak, but rather attempting to achieve something together. If Eddie were a sentimental man, he might feel some sense of unity at that, especially following their quick-and-mostly-just-legal nuptials. 

“How else are we supposed to break in the new place?” Richie had said at the closing of the house, throwing Eddie a saucy look and prompting their realtor to immediately flee. 

“You scared Nancy.” 

“Nancy is way too easily spooked,” Richie said, and he wasn’t wrong. Eddie crossed his arms across his chest. He was intrigued. Sex in every room of their first house together, the first place they’ve officially _ lived _ together, not one of theirs first, but always theirs, did seem like a fitting tribute to all their time lost. 

Alas, he accepted Richie’s dare as a win-win for both their dicks, their sanity and honestly, because it sounded fun. 

He had lived 27 years without much fun. Pure joy as a motivator felt rebellious, a hard lick of danger catching him in the abdomen and making his blood run hot. So after two days of nothing but unpacking, bickering and heavy lifting, Eddie’s ready to go with his instincts. 

That’s how they ended up here: Eddie half-bouncing on Richie’s cock, smack dab in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

Richie groans when Eddie twists his hips in a neat circle, blinking the gathering sweat from his eyes.

“I really didn’t, _ guh_, think the kitchen would be first,” he says, and Eddie breathes something like a laugh. 

“It’s your fault,” Eddie answers. Richie’s hands trail up his chest, and Eddie bites back a moan. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mmmm. Making breakfast in your boxers. You know I can’t resist you shirtless.”

“You’re an easy lay, Eds, but I aim to please.” Eddie clenches around him in defiance and Richie flinches hard. “Oh god, do that again, do it again.” 

“Bossy,” he chides, but does it anyway, and is rewarded with that look Richie gets when he’s close to losing it. His eyes practically roll back into his head, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed. A warm bloom of affection rushes through Eddie. He loves this position because he can watch every expression on Richie’s face - with the added bonus of control. 

When he leans down to kiss Richie, the change in angle sends a shock up his spine.

“_Shit_."

“Yeah? Right there?” 

Eddie nods. He can’t do much else but breathe into Richie’s mouth and try not to fall apart. But Richie is there, enveloping him in his arms, giving him enough space to fuck down harder against him. 

It’s deep and _ so _ good, hitting his prostate every time. It gets sharper and sharper and Eddie slams his hands into the linoleum on either side of Richie’s face for more traction. The leverage helps a little, but he’s already far gone, and then Richie scrapes his teeth across his throat and Eddie comes on the spot. 

Richie makes a noise of surprise, then groans when a splatter of come hits his chin. Eddie is mid-orgasm but he still hisses in disgust until he feels Richie grasp his hips and slam into him, quick and brutal. 

Eddie braces himself with Richie’s shoulders, riding out his high as Richie manhandles him, only a few thrusts until he’s coming, too. Eddie collapses onto him and they hold each other while they catch their breath.

“Got a little eager there at the end, Tozier. You got a come kink you never tell me about?” Eddie’s exhausted and somehow also giddy, and Richie is disgusting but god, he loves him. 

“You are my kink, Eds. Everything you do is a fucking revelation,” Richie says, boneless and panting, hands clinging to Eddie’s back. “But yeah, you kidding? You coming on me is a huge turn on.” Eddie scrunches up his nose.

“S’gross.”

“Nuh uh. I’d let you mark me up anytime.” 

Eddie hates how his stomach swoops at that, even after he’s just come. When Richie chuckles softly, he hates it even more. 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you? Coming on my face?” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, hissing when Richie pulls out of him to remove the condom, since Eddie still insists on using them to curtail the mess. Eddie goes to stand, but his legs are jelly. Richie is still flat on his back, shining up at him. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“No comment,” Eddie says, finally getting up onto his feet and heading to the bathroom to clean up. 

“Kitchen: check.” 

******

The process of actually buying a house was more stressful than either of them anticipated. And they had anticipated lots of stress. 

Eddie, hot off the mess of his divorce, was burnt out and financially flustered. Even with Richie’s insistence that he could afford it for the both of them, Eddie refused to let him consider any place they couldn’t purchase and maintain together. They searched for months and months, bunking in Richie’s large apartment that Eddie complained about constantly, until finally, they set their hearts on the cozy two bedroom that would eventually become theirs. 

Unfortunately, LA is a nightmare, and buying anything in LA is even worse, so it wasn’t until both their names were signed on the dotted lines and the keys were in their hands that they truly believed it was theirs. 

The plan had been a dinner out to celebrate, some place fancy where they could order nice wine by the bottle and not feel guilty, then take an early night back at the apartment to rest up and pack bright and early in the morning. 

One bottle becomes two, their smiles and limbs heavy, Richie wearing the deep blue sweater Eddie loves best and rubbing their legs together under the table. Eddie is happy and more than tipsy, and when he pulls up the Uber app he can’t stop himself from punching in their brand new address as the destination. He also _ definitely _ can’t stop himself from groping Richie in the backseat.

“What’s gotten into you, Kaspbrak?” Richie asks as Eddie sucks a red mark onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Richie’s already squirming, tipsy and aroused with multiple hickeys blooming on his skin.

“Mmmm… nothing yet,” he murmurs, and Richie shivers. 

“You’re gonna _ kill _ me.” 

Eddie knows it’s not a contest, isn’t even sure what they would be competing for, but he still feels like he’s winning.

Richie crosses his legs and shoves his hands between his thighs, daring himself not to touch. Eddie licks a stripe behind his ear and moans softly. 

“You’re going to regret this,” Richie warns, and Eddie sees the blush, knows he’s bursting at the seams and probably sporting a semi. The tingle in Eddie’s fingers spreads through the rest of him, itching. 

They hit a stop sign and finally Richie catches wind of the change in location. 

“Where are-” his eyes widen comically and Eddie bites his lip to keep the giggle in. He’s a grown man, but seeing his new _ husband _ flustered and turned on and now excited is just too much to take. His hand finds Richie’s free one and tangles their fingers together. 

“Welcome home!” Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand twice and exits the car, thanking the driver. It’s a full minute before Richie follows. 

A tiny patch of what could be called “a garden” greets them, a short path of rocks leading to the front door. It’s dark, and Eddie absentmindedly wonders if they should install lights and where. He digs the key out of his pocket and presses it to the lock before he realizes Richie isn’t behind him. There’s a drunken fog clouding his judgement, and he momentarily panics, imagining he’s left Richie behind in the car, an Uber kidnapping, but then he hears Richie’s shoes scuffing at the pavement of their sidewalk/concrete/patch-of-land-too-small-to-be-a-yard. He turns to see Richie gaping at him. Heat prickles at the back of Eddie’s neck.

“You fucker,” Richie says, but there’s no bite. His voice is shaky, and Eddie wonders if he’s crying, it’s too dark to tell. He motions at the door. 

“C’mon, Tozier, you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” 

There’s barely a beat before Richie runs at him full speed. 

Eddie flips around and shoves the key in the lock, turning it before Richie is at his back. He’s got a handful of the collar of Eddie’s shirt before he knows it, and Richie is a gangly, 41-year-old man with heartburn and the worst fucking vision in the world, but he can still pick Eddie up like he’s a ragdoll. 

Eddie kicks and screams, flailing every single limb, he will swear to his grave that he fucking _ hates _ it, hates feeling like a child, hates being man-handled, hates giving in to Richie’s ridiculous shenanigans, but it’s a bizarre act of foreplay. As children, it made him frustrated, ready to explode in a boiling rage that Richie always encouraged, prodding him relentlessly, sweaty hands gripping at him. As adults, it usually leads to the best sex Eddie’s ever had in his life. Which, honestly, is _ all _ sex with Richie. Having Richie under his hands, in his mouth, _ inside _ him is the closest Eddie’s felt to a religious experience since he took a study abroad to Scotland and stood in front of Stonehenge. It didn’t make any sense, and he couldn’t explain it to another human if he tried. But he knew he felt something tug at him, something deep inside him that made him feel whole. 

Richie deposits him just inside the foyer, immediately pressing him against the backside of the door, never letting up. Eddie’s still out of breath from yelling, his heart pounding, and the grin on Richie’s face makes him even angrier. Before he can protest, Richie seals their mouths together, and Eddie considers pulling away for a minute until Richie does that thing with his tongue Eddie loves and then he forgets why he was so mad to begin with. Richie’s got him pinned and it’s overwhelming, all he can see is a blur of curly hair and Richie’s glasses. Richie pulls away but stays close, nipping gently at Eddie’s bottom lip with his teeth. 

“You surprised me,” he whispers, even though there’s no one there, the house is empty, and his deep voice feels wired directly to Eddie’s dick. Eddie has always had a thing for Richie’s voice, and his bedroom voice is somehow even better, or _ worse _, depending on if, say, they are in public, or with the Losers, or if Eddie is about to come for the third time, fucked out, face shoved in a pillow, crying with it. 

“I thought we needed a change in scenery.” Eddie leans forward to connect their mouths and Richie responds by kissing him so thoroughly he feels it in his toes. Kissing is an art for Richie, a soothing balm after an extended bout of teasing. It’s how Eddie first knew he was serious, he really _ had _ wanted him practically their whole lives, because no one could kiss like that who hadn’t been waiting thirty years to do it. Eddie pulls away when Richie moans because he’s about to lose it. 

Richie’s hand is pressed tight to his collarbone, holding him to the door. Eddie’s eyes are blown, he feels floaty just at the smallest loss of control. Richie knows when he needs it, senses something in him ready to let go and always takes full advantage. 

Eddie has been on top of shit his whole life. Aware of the risks, worried about the consequences, a flashing light of warning at all times. Being with Richie has softened him in a million different ways, each more subtle than the last. He still makes them both wear SPF 80 and get tested every three months and meal preps like a motherfucker. But sometimes Eddie gives Richie a look. Sometimes he acts a little too wound up. Sometimes he has one more drink than usual and Richie knows he’s willing and ready to be pushed around. Sometimes Eddie needs to be told what to do. The rest of the time, Eddie’s got this shit handled. 

“Spread your legs,” Richie says. Eddie blinks hard, brain melting from his ears. He moves his legs apart and Richie fits his knee into the space between them. “Mmm, good. You can use this,” he pushes his knee gently up until Eddie gets the idea and rolls his hips down for friction. Richie keeps his hand spread on Eddie’s chest, barely pressing, but Eddie knows he’s there. 

They kiss again, this time slower, mouths open wide against each other. Eddie grinds down a little, and then a few more times. Richie breaks their kiss with a pleased smile. He grips Eddie’s hip, encouraging the motion and Eddie lets his head fall back against the door with a thump. The sensation licks through him like a wave. Richie holding him down, moving him along, kissing him senseless. 

“Y’okay, babe?” Richie sounds halfway wrecked. Eddie almost whines, so hard so quickly and suddenly so aware they’re both fully dressed. Pushing at the hem of Richie’s shirt, his fingers skate up Richie’s chest and Richie growls. The hands on Eddie’s hips become a vice, and Eddie moans at the thought of bruises there in the shape of Richie’s thumbs. 

“Mmnmm,” he answers. Richie reels him back in for a kiss, and they move faster against each other, Richie humping at Eddie’s hip. The long, hard length of him threatens to send Eddie over the edge, especially with the sounds that Richie is making into his mouth, so Eddie breaks the kiss and grabs at Richie’s wrist, moving it up a few inches so Richie’s hand encircles his neck. He sighs when Richie flexes his fingers against his Adam’s apple and holds them there gently. Richie’s eyes are asking, and Eddie nods. Anything. 

They’ve only done this a few times; Richie holding him down by his throat as he fucks into him, gripping around him in the last moments of his orgasm, keeping him in place as more of a strong suggestion than a command. It only works in certain fits of intensity, and Eddie is positive one of those moments is right now.

“C’mon, you can do it, Eds,” Richie says, deep and quiet into his ear, and it makes Eddie want to obey so badly he can hardly breathe with it. His cock is desperately hard and hitting a good rhythm every time he moves, and when Richie pushes their mouths back together the slide of their tongues brings it all crashing down. 

Richie won’t let him go, won’t stop kissing or pushing or pulling, hitting him from all angles and rutting against him with intense determination. Eddie’s orgasm spreads through him like a flush, starting in his belly and culminating in a loud string of expletives pouring from his mouth and into Richie’s. Richie, on the other hand, is stuck in a loop of little _ uh uh uh_’s that are driving Eddie crazy, fucking up against Eddie’s hip until he comes, too. 

Their rhythm slows gently, their mouths still locked, Richie’s hand releasing Eddie’s throat and smoothing a line through his hair. Eddie is boneless and Richie holds him up, kisses him through it until he opens his eyes. 

“We just fucking came in our pants.”

Richie laughs, the bastard, and Eddie feels it rumble through both of them. 

“This one doesn’t count,” Richie says, a furrow of concern on his brow, and Eddie nods, agreeing.

******

It takes them two weeks to unpack, and it would have been one if Eddie was allowed to do it all himself. Unfortunately, more than half of the boxes were filled with Richie’s shit, and Eddie found that, ironically, it made him more angry to open them than see them sitting there unopened. 

They celebrate with Chinese and Richie practically screeches when Eddie allows him to eat it in the living room on the couch, even though Eddie insists on unearthing the TV trays for the occasion. When he unfolds one right in front of Richie, who holds his plate of chow mein and sesame chicken aloft until he’s told the tray is secure, Eddie’s heart clenches, and he thanks whatever force in the universe led him here, into this life, with this man who makes the most mundane moments so delightful. 

Eddie lets Richie pick the movie, a reward for getting through the rest of his boxes, so they end up watching an unnecessarily long, yet mostly entertaining Guy Ritchie movie, _ RocknRolla_. Richie has a lot of opinions, mostly about how gay it is, and Eddie doesn’t have many thoughts that aren’t “when is this going to be over?” so he sticks to stealing baby corn cobs from Richie’s plate when he’s too busy talking. 

“This scene is top-notch flirting. Look at this shit,” he points to their television, freshly mounted on the wall, where Tom Hardy is sidling up to a British man on a leather couch. Eddie snorts. 

“You make this sound like expert writing.” 

Richie rolls his eyes and takes a swig of whiskey. Eddie bought him a nice bottle last night and he’s sipping it like he knows what he’s doing. 

“You don’t need good writing with a cast this hot. Have you _ seen _Idris Elba?” Richie’s eyes rake up and down Idris’ form and no, Eddie can’t blame him, that is one fine specimen of a man, but he scoffs anyway.

“How did you not know immediately that you liked guys? Seriously, how did that elude you for so long?” 

“You jealous I’ve got the hots for such a tall, strapping lad?” He hits the British accent hard on the last few words, and Eddie frowns.

“You’ve mostly been eye-fucking Tom Hardy and I’m pretty sure he’s shorter than me,” Eddie says, lifting off the couch to clean up their plates and stick the leftovers in the fridge. Richie yells after him. 

“I have a type!” 

When Eddie returns to his seat, Richie has a glint in his eye.

“Come here often, cutie?” He waggles his eyebrows, reaching out to run a hand up Eddie’s thigh. Eddie rolls his eyes but shifts closer. 

“Just moved in, actually.” Richie feigns intrigue, tracing a finger along Eddie’s jaw.

“Thought I would’ve noticed you before.” Eddie bows his head, laughing. 

“Sorry, dude, I’m a married man,” he says, wiggling his ring finger, and he swears he can hear Richie’s breath catch. It’s still amazing to the both of them, being _ married_. Eddie’s been married before, and when Richie proposed he expected to feel the hesitancy, but instead he didn’t even let Richie get the words out before tackling him to the ground with kisses and shrieks of acceptance. 

“Lucky _ dude_. What are you, a surf-” Eddie closes the distance between them, doesn’t let Richie finish mocking him, slips him the tongue just to shut him up, but Richie doesn’t seem to mind, grasping the back of his head and giving it his all.

They tangle around each other, Eddie throwing a leg over Richie’s thighs so he’s in his lap. He presses Richie back so he’s craning his neck up and Eddie can shove his hands in his curls. Richie sighs when he pulls lightly, and butterflies flood Eddie’s stomach. It feels good, making out on the couch, almost like the first time. 

Both of them had been dancing around it for weeks, increased touches and lingering moments, tension you could cut with a knife, amping up every time one of them almost named it aloud. Finally, Eddie couldn’t take it anymore, attacking Richie on the couch in his old apartment after he innocuously asked Eddie’s opinion on what they should watch while eating the casserole he’d prepared. Richie jerked him off slow and gentle that night, whispering praise, telling him all the things he’d wanted to say for decades. Eddie felt something slot into place, so overwhelmed with it that he cried as he came. 

Tonight, there’s nothing gentle about the way they go at each other. 

Their lips are bruising by the time they pull apart, panting. Both of them are hard, their hips meeting in a grind atop one another. Richie lifts his hips and flips them over until Eddie’s back hits the cushions. He slithers down between Eddie’s legs, pressing his thighs apart and undoing his belt. Eddie groans. 

“I knew this movie would get you worked up,” Richie says, finally managing to get Eddie out of his pants and underwear, not pausing to let Eddie laugh before licking at the head of his cock. 

“_Shit_, Richie,” Eddie moans, petting a hand through Richie’s hair. Richie is enthusiastic at sucking dick, and tonight is no different. His lips and tongue go to fucking _ town_, and Eddie is lost before he sucks the entire head in his mouth. “Jesusfuck, Rich.” 

Richie hums around him, finding Eddie’s other hand and lifting it to join the first on his head. Once Eddie gets the idea, Richie holds the base of Eddie’s dick and strokes up to meet his mouth. He moves down, up, down, up, again and again, gathering spit to ease the rhythm. He pops off with a gasp before repeating the whole motion. Eddie’s hips twitch up on impulse, and Richie moans when the cock in his mouth hits the back of his throat. He comes off again, pressing the heel of his hand to his own erection, still caught in his jeans. 

“Fuck my mouth, Eds,” he mumbles, lips still pressed to the tip of Eddie’s cock. Eddie nods desperately, always a fucking goner for Richie telling him what to do during sex. Richie swallows him down again, then pulls up and rests the head on his tongue, relaxing his jaw. Testing the waters, Eddie goes slow, the slide maddening, deep into Richie’s mouth before pulling back out. Richie nods around him, gripping hard at Eddie’s hip to urge him on. Eddie doesn’t go slow after that. 

The sound of it all is ridiculous and partly disgusting, but Eddie fucking _ loves _ it, Richie taking his cock, helping him pump his hips up and thrust into his mouth. Richie clearly loves it too, he sounds and looks like he’s in heaven, and when Eddie makes a move to pull away because he’s getting close, Richie’s hand clamps down against his abdomen and sucks at Eddie’s cock to get him all the way there. 

Eddie goes off like a live wire, coming down Richie’s throat, and he takes it all, gentling Eddie through it with his tongue until he goes limp into the couch. Without notice, Richie presses a finger against his rim, and Eddie’s cock aches even as it’s softening, his mind blown and his body tingly. The bottle of lube appears in Richie’s hand and he pops the lid open to slather some against Eddie’s hole. 

Richie throws both of Eddie’s legs over his shoulders and bends his knees to push up to his chest. Askew on his face, his glasses are foggy, he looks like a mess, and Eddie doesn’t think he could love him more. Not until he kisses Eddie, off-center and sloppy, and growls:

“Gonna fuck you.” 

Eddie’s not going to get hard again, he’s close to middle-age, and even the newfound libido in his second marriage couldn’t help him get it up after fucking Richie’s face like an animal, but he’s never been more willing. 

“_Do it_,” he moans, because he knows Richie loves when he talks, “fuck me into the couch.” 

“Fuck _ yes_.” Richie presses two fingers into him from the get-go, and Eddie is so overstimulated and turned on, he screams. He worries about the noise level for a minute, then remembers they’re in their house, and even if the neighbors can hear them (Jeff and Stephanie, “They’re tragically straight,” Richie had concluded, whispered to Eddie after nothing but introductions, and once again, he hadn’t been wrong) they can deal. This is their house. 

He loves Richie like this. He loves Richie in every single way. Slow and loving, careful and gentle, bossy, hard and fast, rough and desperate, ready to take what he needs. Eddie will always give him everything, always happy and sated, always buzzing with praise, always taken care of and loved. 

After fucking him with fingers for less than a few minutes, Richie gives up and finally removes his own pants. Eddie watches him roll the condom on, followed by a small handful of lube. Richie closes his eyes in pleasure, blinking a few times before he looks down at Eddie. Eddie tries and fails to smile, too gobsmacked by how beautiful the sight in front of him is. He wishes he could make his brain or mouth work, but he came literally four minutes ago, so instead he makes grabby hands and pulls Richie in for a kiss. Richie holds himself up with shaky arms against the back of the couch, ravaging Eddie’s mouth for half a second before returning to the task at hand. 

Eddie spreads his legs eagerly, bringing his knees back up to his chest. Richie pushes in slowly at first, but Eddie presses back against him as much as he can, and then it all happens in one long, smooth motion. After that, he doesn’t let up. Eddie bounces into the couch with every thrust, helpless to stop the stream of cries that fall from his lips. Richie’s careful not to hit his prostate, and Eddie is grateful, scrabbling at his sweaty shirt and staring up at him with wide eyes. He’s not sure if Richie can really see him, not with the sweat beading on his glasses, but he’s glad he can see Richie. 

“You look, _ uh, oh god_, you look so good, baby,” Eddie manages, his chin tucked against his chest. Richie keens, grinding into him. Eddie only calls him pet names during sex, and he knows what it does to Richie, so he always drops them at the most opportune moments. “You close?” 

Richie nods, panting, his speed hectic and haphazard. Eddie grips at his forearms, pulling him in. He licks his lips. 

“Come on me,” Eddie says, desperate, because if he can’t get off again he’s at least going to give Richie the time of his life. Something flashes across Richie’s eyes and Eddie clenches around him for posterity. Before he knows it, Richie is pulling out and whipping the condom off, leaving him empty and cold, then pumping himself over Eddie’s chest. 

“Come on, baby, fuck, you look so good over me, in me, fucking come on me, you can do it,” Eddie says, rambling, cheeks hot. He can’t stop himself now, an endless litany of dirty talk spilling from him, and Richie can’t take it, comes hard, coating Eddie’s chest with it. Eddie moans, utterly claimed and lit up, his legs shaking with anticipation now fulfilled. 

Richie collapses half on top of him and half onto the other side of the couch, breathing hard. It takes approximately ten seconds for Eddie to regret letting Richie come on him, his chest is covered, and all he wants to do is wipe it all off and take a shower. Luckily, Richie knows him better than anyone, even fucked out and stupid, so he sleepily pulls his shirt off over his head and balls it up to clean Eddie’s chest. It’s not perfect, but it helps. 

“You let me come on you. And kiss you after sucking your dick,” Richie says, sounding stunned, and Eddie can’t help but laugh. 

“You let me fuck your face, it seemed like a fair trade.” Eddie rotates so they’re facing each other, and Richie’s eyes glaze over.

“That may have been the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Richie says, and he looks like he’s in another world, completely naked and boneless on the couch. Eddie feels about the same. 

“We’re not even halfway through the house,” Eddie says to no one in particular.

Richie grunts, and it’s some weird mix of fatigue and excitement.

****

Eddie is still sore the next morning, and still keyed up. 

He can barely handle the sight of Richie in just his pajama pants, a gift from Eddie last Christmas so he would stop flashing his bare ass to guests, and for the first time in his life, he can’t focus on brushing his teeth for the full two minutes. He stops after a distracted one and a half minutes, the shape of Richie’s dick so obvious through the thin fabric that it actually makes him angry, and yanks Richie’s toothbrush from his mouth, forcing him to spit into the sink. 

Once they both rinse, Eddie drops his boxers to the floor and presses himself fully up against Richie. He leans in to kiss him while Richie fills his palms to the brim with ass, and Eddie blesses him for going with the flow. From what Eddie can tell, he’s also still feeling the effects of last night, the hard line of him tight against Eddie’s stomach. 

Then he feels Richie’s hand grasp his bicep, hard, and he’s spun around to face the mirror. He presses a hand to each side of the sink in front of him, spreading his legs a bit to make things easier. Richie chuckles, tracing a hand down Eddie’s body.

“Someone’s really trying to make their way through the list,” he says, kneeling down to bite at the cheek of Eddie’s ass. “No one said it was a race, Eds.” 

“Can you shut up and fuck me?” Eddie spits. Richie pries his cheeks apart and licks a punishing stripe across his hole. It’s sensitive from last night, and Eddie clenches his fist around the porcelain. 

“You sure? You look swollen,” Richie says, thumbing at him gently. Eddie hums.

“I’m sure,” he answers. Thankfully, Richie doesn’t protest further, and instead spreads feathery kisses over him. He eats him out slowly, taking his time, and it drives Eddie crazy. Saliva floods his mouth when Richie moans into him. He’s glad for the sink holding him up because his knees go weak. Glancing up into the mirror, Eddie sees a dark red blush across his face, down to his chest. He’s heaving, and the smallest glimpse of Richie’s fingers holding his cheeks apart and the undulating motion of his face hits him sideways. 

“I’m ready, I’m ready, Richie,” he says, scattered, forcing a hand around the base of his cock and holding tight to the sink with his other. 

Richie grabs a condom from the basket above the toilet and he’s ready to go in record time. His hands frame Eddie’s hips, and in the split second before he enters him, he looks up into the mirror. They lock eyes as he pushes in, and Eddie almost blacks out. Richie is sweaty, he’s always sweaty, but his blush is lighter than Eddie’s, peppering his chest and neck and face like a gorgeous constellation. They feel tethered together as he bottoms out, eyes stuck on each other, mouths open from the effort of holding on. Eddie breathes heavy and strokes himself once. 

“C’mon, I want to come with you inside me,” he says, and Richie takes the challenge, pulling almost completely out before shoving back inside. It doesn’t take him long to angle it right, Eddie’s prostate clipped every time he pushes in. Eddie silently thanks their sturdy bathroom sink, his abdomen slamming into it with every thrust, taking the brunt of their fucking. Richie is never inhibited during sex, and maybe it’s the early morning, or the amazing sex from last night, or the fact that he can see Eddie jostling against him in the mirror, clearly loving it, but he’s never quite run his mouth like this. 

“Take it, Eds, oh my god,” he breathes, skating a hand up Eddie’s back to grab his hair, “you’re fucking _ made _for this, Jesus Christ, you look so good, so good for me, always.” He’s still nailing Eddie’s prostate every single time, and Eddie jacks himself hard, so ready to come, watching both of them fall apart in the mirror, unable to look away. 

“I can’t hold off,” he says, and it only spurs Richie on. He fucks him so hard he can hear the smack of their skin colliding, echoing in the bathroom like a filthy porno. Richie reaches a hand down to slap Eddie’s away from his cock and replace it with his own, and Eddie takes the opportunity to brace himself against the sink and push back onto Richie’s dick. 

“I’m close, too,” Richie groans, hips stuttering. Just then, he catches Eddie’s eyes in the mirror, looking so gone and in love and turned on that it makes Eddie whine. It builds from low in his stomach, fucking into Richie’s fist and back onto his cock, the combination delicious, and then he’s coming onto the floor and all over Richie’s hand. 

Richie fucks him through it, grinding slowly inside, giving Eddie a reprieve while he comes down. He rubs a soothing hand up his back, over his neck, into his hair, still inside him, still hard as a rock. Eddie pieces enough of his brain together to slowly shift, feeling Richie slide out of him slightly. He grabs lazily for Richie’s hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing two fingers deep into his mouth. His tongue swirls around them for a moment, and he looks up to see Richie watching him, awestruck. 

“You gonna finish the job, or just enjoy the show?” Eddie sucks with some pressure, and Richie laughs, shaky. 

“You are way too fucking hot for me, Kaspbrak,” he punctuates every word with a push in, slower than last time but just as deep, and Eddie’s mouth waters. There’s nothing like Richie inside him. And watching it all happen in the mirror is the perfect thing he never knew he wanted. “You are making me, _ fuck_, lose my mind.” 

“Mmm,” is all Eddie can say around the fingers in his mouth, all his attention on Richie’s red face, the muscles flexing in his arms, the way the soft part of his belly moves against his back. It doesn’t take long for Richie to fill up the condom, loud groans kissed into the nape of Eddie’s neck. 

Eddie finds it rather convenient to have all his clean up supplies so close at hand. Maybe he should institute a “bathroom only” rule, what with the sink anchor, his new best friend: the mirror, and a shower immediately behind them for a quick rinse-off. 

“I really thought the bathroom session would be in the shower,” Richie says, reading his mind. He stops, looking thoughtful. “We could call it another room. It does have a door.” 

Eddie gladly follows him inside.

*****

After a long, arduous conversation regarding bathroom sex, Richie nixes it. Not completely, he’s not a monster, and he loved their morning session possibly even more than Eddie did. 

“We have to move on,” he continues, blowing at his coffee and hazarding a sip. “And I am not agreeing to relocate all sexual activity on the basis of ease of sanitation. Sex is inherently _ dirty_.” 

As soon as it’s out of his mouth, his eyes widen and he chokes on the coffee in his mouth. Eddie’s chest gets tight, watching Richie spit into the kitchen sink and spin around, his eyes watery. Eddie stops him before he even starts.

“I know, I know, that’s not what you meant,” Eddie says, wanting the conversation to end, but Richie can’t help himself, and Eddie knows he feels bad. 

“Not _ dirty_, Eds, I’m such an idiot.” He takes a measured breath, setting his coffee cup on the counter. He finds Eddie’s eyes and sees the pleading to leave it be. “You see, Eddie, when a man loves a woman, or in this case, _ another _ man, this time adorable and shrimpy, they-”

Eddie abruptly leaves the room. He’ll find an alternative to Bathroom Sex. 

In the end, he narrows it down to one secret ingredient: the mirror.

Estate sales are Richie’s drug of choice, other than alcohol, and sometimes weed, and Eddie frequently finds himself being dragged to Van Nuys on the weekends, digging through some old dead biddy’s most prized possessions. Richie has a weird aesthetic, and Eddie’s not sure what his aesthetic is besides clean, so he mostly goes on gut feelings. And his gut tells him Richie is horrible at decorating. 

“Absolutely not. No way in hell am I living with that thing,” he waves his hand at the creepy doll head Richie displays with a shit-eating grin that slowly falls into a frown. Eddie couldn’t care less. He’d rather almost die again than let that thing into his house. Richie puts it down and swings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pouting. 

“You never like anything I pick out,” he says, gripping at the nape of Eddie’s neck, but Eddie is too distracted to hear him. 

Across the room, casually laying on a run-down double bed, is a giant, ornate mirror. 

Eddie glides toward it, abandoning Richie, who is immediately distracted by a large tapestry. His fingers caress the frame, a pattern in stark silver. It’s _ big_, big enough to stretch the length of their bed, which is fit for a giant, seeing as he’s married to one. The price tag asks a clean five hundred dollars, and Eddie knows he can talk it down from there, with a slight crack in the left corner and a chip off a few areas in the frame.

The old man who sells it to him looks appalled that he would bargain at an estate sale, but Richie throws him a wink and he forks over three hundred dollars in cold, hard cash. 

Two nights later, at their monthly gathering with the Losers, their joint Friday-night-shebang and housewarming party, Eddie works up the courage to ask Ben to mount it on the ceiling of the guest room. Ben gives him a look, like he’s considering asking why, but then they hear Richie from the kitchen. 

“We had sex on one piece of furniture in there, Mike, and I’m not saying _ which_!” 

Eddie turns a bright shade of pink and squeaks, which Ben pointedly ignores.

“I’ll mount it, just know that Bev and I are never sleeping in that bed.” 

Eddie nods, bowing his head in shame.

He adds _ guest room _ to the sex challenge queue. 

As soon as Ben is done mounting it, Eddie beckons Richie down to the end of the hallway. Richie complained all day about not being let in on the secret, but Eddie promised him a nice surprise if he could be patient for a few hours. Richie stretches the definition of patient, but Eddie is too excited to effectively punish him. So here they are. 

Eddie pops open the door with a smile, and Richie remains confused. 

“It’s… the guest bedroom. What sort of sick joke is this, Spaghetti-man?” Richie puts his hands to his hips in exaggerated suspicion. Eddie hates him. 

“Look up, you man-child,” he says, pointing up to where the new mirror is flush against the ceiling. It’s perfectly centered over the bed, a King-size that Richie splurged on so their guests would always be accommodated. Eddie loves how thoughtful Richie is, and how he decides to spend his money, mostly on making people happy. Too bad he’s also a few fries short of a Happy Meal. 

“The fuck is that for?” His mouth hangs open, and Eddie wants to stick his hand right down there to choke him. And not in a fun way. His husband is horrible at finding and keeping a fucking clue. 

“Sex. It’s for sex, Richie, Jesus, get with the program.” 

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Why the fuck else would someone _ mount _a mirror to their ceiling?” 

“It’s in the _ guest _ room. Are you planning some sort of _ Eyes Wide Shut _theme for our next party?” 

“No! I just wanted the option, I didn’t want to have to sleep under it every night.” 

“Is this because of the bathroom sex?” 

Eddie drops his eyes and Richie beams. 

“You little shit.” 

Eddie blushes. He feels Richie creeping closer, and finally looks up. 

“You wanna watch me fuck you again?” Richie’s eyes are dark and Eddie wants to kiss him. 

“Not… exactly.” His eyes shift downward, and Richie cocks his head. 

“You mean-”

“If you want to, I know you’ve mentioned it a few times in the middle of things, but if that’s-”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to,” Richie says, making quick work of removing his sweatshirt, pulling off his shoes and tripping back onto the bed. Eddie laughs, feeling dizzy with joy.

“Yeah?” Eddie shucks off his pants and shirt, wondering why the hell either of them get dressed at all anymore. Sitting on the edge of the bed, biting his lip, Richie watches him. 

“_Yeah_,” he says, and Eddie’s heart swells. “I think about it all the time.” 

“You think about… me fucking you?” Eddie’s somehow surprised. 

“Of course, god, practically all the _ time_,” Richie says, his voice deep, his eyes boring into Eddie. 

Eddie palms himself through his underwear, the tight black ones Richie loves. He knew Ben was coming today, and also knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back once that mirror was up. It’s not like he needs seduction techniques with Richie, but they also make him feel sexy, something he never cared about before. Richie gapes at him often, he sees it, and so what if he encourages the hell out it with tighter clothes? 

“What do you think about?” It’s Eddie’s turn to bite his lip, slowly ghosting his hand over his hard-on, all for Richie’s amusement. He keeps a few feet away, out of Richie’s reach, and waits.

“Your fingers in me, stretching me out.” Eddie almost stops breathing. “You licking me, long and hard, moaning into me like you love it. Your cock-” he stops when Eddie pulls at his underwear, letting his erection free and wrapping a hand around it, “your cock inside me.”

Eddie smiles, licking at his bottom lip. He strokes himself, watching Richie watch him, and lets Richie’s words rain over him. The thought of Richie daydreaming about him, wanting him to fuck him- Eddie’s not sure he can last long enough to actually do it. He tips his head back with a groan. 

“Lemme touch you,” Richie says, a whine at best. Eddie goes to him, stepping out of his underwear and wrapping his arms around him so they fall back onto the bed. Richie kisses him, moaning when Eddie’s dick slides across his stomach, already a little wet. Eddie moves down to his neck, kissing there gently. The press of their bodies together is overwhelming, and when Eddie finally remembers the mirror, he whispers right into Richie’s ear. 

“How do we look?” 

Richie opens his eyes and looks. Eddie feels his arm move down to grip at himself, clearly enjoying the view. 

“Fuck, turn over,” he answers, sitting up and rummaging through their bedside drawer until he finds the lube. Eddie flips onto his back and sees their reflection. He’s almost fully hard after some kissing and grinding, the skin around his mouth splotchy and red from Richie’s stupid stubbly face. Rubbing at his chin, he notices Richie’s slipped out of his boxers. 

“You need to shave before you rub your face all over me,” Eddie says while Richie pours lube onto two fingers. 

“You love it.” Richie reaches back, slowly pressing a finger into himself. Eddie gasps, grabbing at Richie’s thigh, but Richie just exhales a laugh. “Besides, my husband keeps ruining my morning shaving routine. He simply _ insists _ I rail him against the sink, _ fuck_, the shower, the _ floor_.” His breath is hitching as he pumps his finger up and down, and Eddie wants him so badly he can barely look away. 

“S’not my fault you fuck the shit out of me on command,” Eddie tries to sound flippant but the lust dripping in his voice gives him away. Richie’s up to two fingers now, and Eddie wants to be inside him yesterday. 

“Well you need to take some tips from me, Eddie Spaghetti, cause I’ve been, _ shit, _that’s good. I’ve been dropping hints for months that I want a piece of that,” Richie points at Eddie’s dick, hard and waiting. Leaning his head back, he sighs at the sight of them in the mirror. 

“You’ll get it, Rich, if you’d just hurry _ up_.” Eddie presses up onto his elbow, nudging at Richie’s hole with his finger and quickly joining Richie’s own. It’s so _ good_, soft and stretching out by the second, and Eddie _ wants_. If this is how Richie feels every time he’s about to fuck him, he’s surprised he manages even occasional composure. 

“Always rushing me,” Richie removes his fingers and Eddie goes with him, sitting up fully on his knees to grab at the condom on the bed. 

“What do you want?” The package rips easily between his fingers, he never uses his teeth cause that’s fucking _ dangerous_, even if it does send a thrill up his spine every time Richie uses his teeth, eyes hooded, breath heavy. Eddie shakes the thought from his head and fists himself to fit the condom on. 

“I think I wanna ride you?” Richie quirks an eyebrow and Eddie glares.

“Is that a question?” 

“The fuck, gimme a break, this is only the second time I’ve been fucked in my life,” Richie pushes gently at Eddie’s chest until he’s returned to his back on the bed, swinging a leg over his thighs. Eddie almost feels bad until Richie grasps at his cock without warning, angling it toward himself. 

“_ Jesus_, asshole, be _ careful._”

“Nnghh,” Richie answers. All the wind is knocked from Eddie’s sails as Richie lowers himself slowly onto his cock. Eddie chances a look into the mirror but immediately regrets it. The sight of Richie blissed out and sinking onto him is going to end all of this way too soon, and he knows Richie will be beyond pissed if he ruins this. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathes out slowly through his nose. 

“You’re tight, my god, is it always like this?” Eddie splays his fingers across Richie’s thighs and holds on. 

“No, you’re just _ big,_” Richie says, sounding put out, but the noises he’s making hint otherwise. Eddie frowns.

“Don’t be a jerk.” Eddie’s never thought of himself as big, maybe average, but nothing to write home about. Myra certainly never, _ fuck_, no, he shoves that line of thought right the hell away, he promised himself his ex would never enter his brain again, much less during sex. Richie finally bottoms out and then Eddie has plenty else to focus on. 

“M’not, babe, you’re perfect, you fill me up so _ good_,” Richie’s voice cracks, he never sounds like this, not even right before he’s about to come. Eddie reaches for Richie’s dick, hovering right in front of him, and teases some pressure with his fist over the head. Richie whines and Eddie thinks this might be his new favorite thing to do. 

“You ready?” His hips twitch involuntarily, as if they heard him, and Richie squeaks quietly. 

“No, _ fuck_, no, waitwaitwait,” he throws his head back, anchoring his hands behind him and looking up into the mirror. Eddie calms himself and tries desperately not to move. “Fuck, Eddie, this mirror is a revelation.” 

Richie rolls his hips in a gentle circle, humming deep in his chest, his arms and legs spread as far as they go. He’s a fucking sight to behold. Eddie’s eyes are glued to the mirror, even as Richie starts to move in earnest. 

“Richie, please,” is all he can say, not sure what he’s asking for. 

“Yeah,” Richie moans, grinding up and down, and Eddie brings his feet up flat onto the bed. “That’s good, it’s good,” he says, and Eddie is glad, pushing up a bit faster and harder.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, _ fuck_, why didn’t you tell me how good this was?” Richie’s curling in on himself now as Eddie slides easily in and out of him. 

“Oh, I haven’t made that obvious?” 

Richie murmurs something like a comeback before jerking in surprise, almost throwing himself off kilter. 

“Shit shit, was that it?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, you are _ such _ a virgin.” 

Richie’s hips swing in a punishing rhythm, and it takes all of Eddie’s concentration not to come on the spot. Especially with the sounds pouring from Richie’s mouth. He wants to do this every single day for the rest of his life, and he tells that to Richie, stroking his cock and meeting his thrusts as best he can. 

“Richie, this is, _ shit_, you feel amazing,” Eddie can’t stop the wave of pleasure, it’s building quickly, he wants to warn Richie but he’s too worked up and all that spills out is, “I love you.” 

Thankfully, that does it for the both of them. 

After they’re cleaned up, they both lie on the bed, side by side, and stare up into the mirror. Richie is uncharacteristically silent.

“Hey, I love you too,” he finally says, and Eddie smacks his shoulder.

“No shit.” 

*****

Sleeping next to Richie can be a challenge. He’s a long, heavy and terribly twitchy fucker who passes out so hard that Eddie has had to check for signs of breathing more than once. The first time they slept together for a full night, Eddie woke in a sweat, the blankets piled on top of him. Richie had thrown them off in his sleep after insisting something had to cover his feet or the monsters might get him. Based on their past experience, Eddie felt like an asshole telling him he was paranoid. At least once a week Eddie is kicked awake to find Richie drooling next to him, soundly asleep. Eddie used to glare at him, hoping the red heat of his anger would startle him out of sleep and he could deck him one, or at least maybe give him blue balls. But alas, it never worked, and pretty soon, it all became Eddie’s new normal. 

Now a night without Richie is misery. Eddie’s pretty sure that makes him co-dependent, but it’s just a fact that he sleeps better with a Jolly Green Giant pressed tightly to his side, kicking him in the shins and snoring into his ear. 

It’s past midnight when Eddie’s phone vibrates on the nightstand and he answers it without thinking. 

“Are you calling me from the car?” 

There’s a pause of shame.

“I missed your voice,” Richie says, his voice dull through the speakers of his car. Eddie hums, still partly asleep. 

“Thought it ‘wasn’t that long of a trip’ and I ‘need to stop being so clingy,’” Eddie says, a tired mumble with a dumb voice, echoing Richie’s words from four nights ago, when he left to play a show in New York. Eddie offered to go with him but Richie assured him it would be fine, despite them both knowing they hadn’t spent that much time apart since returning from Derry. Even most of Eddie’s divorce proceedings had been done over the phone, the two of them still afraid to let the other out of their sight for more than a night, lest they forget again. None of the Losers had forgotten each other after killing It, but it took them a long time before they felt comfortable risking it. Their existences were now intertwined forever, and neither Richie nor Eddie wanted to know it any other way. 

“Turns out we both might be a little clingy,” Richie says. 

“A-ha, the Great and Unmovable Tozier has _ feelings _ behind those jokes, I see how it is,” Eddie teases, pushing his arms out from under the sheets. Richie laughs, but there’s no feeling behind it. He’s quiet for a moment. “You okay, Rich?” 

“Had a nightmare last night.” Eddie doesn’t even have to ask, but Richie tells him anyway. “The usual one. Blood, your… your chest, Eds,” he stops, coughing out a sob. 

“I’m here, baby, I’m okay,” Eddie tells him, a mantra he’s repeated hundreds of times after hundreds of nightmares, but usually they’re pressed into Richie’s ear, kissed into his lips, wrapped around him like a blanket. 

“Didn’t think you’d make it, Eds, and sometimes it’s so fucking _ real_, still. Even after a couple years. After everything, It’s still in my head,” Richie says, and Eddie knows exactly what he means. Sometimes he wonders how they hell they could have survived life after Derry without each other, without someone who so completely understands. Considering the alternative sends a shiver up his spine. 

“Richie, pull over. You need to calm down, you shouldn’t be driving.” 

“Gotta see you, Eddie,” and he sounds so helpless, so exhausted that Eddie’s stomach turns over. “I’m only twenty minutes away, I can make it.” 

Eddie almost protests, he knows the chances of Richie crashing from the fog of tears or leftover nightmares or even this phone call, but suddenly suggesting they hang up feels absurd. Instead, he distracts.

“You know, after our little dalliance by the pool, I’m pretty sure we’ve checked off all the rooms, bud,” Eddie says. Richie sniffs a few times, the faint sound of sirens passing in his speaker. 

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees, and Eddie smiles. 

“We didn’t really fuck-”

“Fucking is whatever you want it to be, Spaghetti man,” Richie argues, some of the passion back in his voice, “and our epic pool session definitely constitutes as some sort of fucking.” 

Eddie felt like a fraud buying a house with a pool, but Richie was dedicated to winning him over. His debate skills left something to be desired, but Eddie wasn’t going to complain about a slow and dirty suckjob with a side of finger fucking, Richie between Eddie’s thighs as he sat on the edge of the pool, legs dangling into the water. But then Richie had pulled off, looking mighty pleased with himself and said, “House shopping isn’t the only thing that blows,” and Eddie almost drowned him right there. 

All in all, Eddie still hated the pool. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

There’s another pause and Eddie chews at his lip. 

“You called me baby,” Riche says, sounding shy. 

“Yeah, well, you were crying. Don’t think I’m gonna make a habit of it.” They both laugh, but Eddie wishes affection came easier to him. He wishes he could call Richie baby, sweetie, dumpling. Well, maybe not _ dumpling_. 

During sex, both of their inhibitions down, messy and panting, Eddie says a lot. But sometimes in the light of day, he freezes. That same terror he felt as a kid claws at him, convincing him the homophobic shit his mother, the town, the world told him is true. Richie is so patient with him, and their late-in-life coming out had been done together, just like they do everything else now. They’re both a work in progress.

They fill up most of the twenty minutes bickering about the cost of pool maintenance until Eddie hears the sound of the garage door opening. 

“See you in a minute, cutie.” 

He’s in the doorway in one minute flat. Eddie means to ask if he ran, but then he sees the broken look on Richie’s face. His heart lurches, and he might cry, too, because fuck, there’s something about being without Richie that just _ feels _ wrong. 

“Home, sweet home.” Richie grins and Eddie snorts, beckoning him into bed. 

“You’re such a cheeseball.” 

Richie shucks off his shoes and pants and climbs into bed. His feet are freezing and his face is lined and his hair is greasy and Eddie loves him so much it hurts. He takes off his glasses and puts them on the nightstand. Eddie knows that usually means he’s about to cry. Instead, he grabs at Eddie’s hand under the covers. 

“Your cheeseball,” Richie whispers, and Eddie has to kiss him. Richie groans, something between pain and relief. His hand clings tighter and Eddie pulls him closer, their arms wrapping around each other, the kiss deepening. The scent of hotel soap and aftershave overwhelm Eddie and he moves away, rubbing his hands up Richie’s back. 

“You smell different,” he pouts, and Richie laughs, huffing a breath out his mouth and right into Eddie’s nose. Eddie recoils, but Richie grabs at his thigh, pulling it up over his own hip so he can’t move. They’re close this way, Eddie wriggling in Richie’s grasp, and Eddie already wants to kiss him again. God, he missed him.

“Remind me never to leave you again, your nose is far too delicate.” 

Eddie runs a hand through Richie’s mop of hair. “Plus the hotel shampoo never gives you enough volume.” 

“The water pressure is always for shit,” he agrees, his hand slipping into the back of Eddie’s briefs, “and there’s never a cute piece of ass waiting for me when I get out of the shower.” Eddie hums as Richie’s hands cup at him. 

“Maybe you should take him up on his offer next time,” Eddies breathes into his mouth, their lips touching, Richie tugging Eddie closer to him. 

“Fuck, I’m never leaving you again,” Richie says, halfway into a kiss, and Eddie sighs, feeling it in his stomach. Then Richie crowds in closer and Eddie feels that, too, hard and wanting against him. They grind slowly and kiss even slower, their lips soaking it in, hands sliding over each other. It’s ridiculous how deeply Eddie feels it all, he’s not sure what’s happening, but he knows he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Richie,” he gasps and then his cheeks are wet, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s not crying, but at this point it doesn’t matter. His hand grasps at Richie’s arm and Richie goes easy, rolling on top of him. 

The weight of Richie is disarming. It makes Eddie feel safe, but it’s also staggering how fully Richie can physically cover him: big hands over his jaw, thighs pressing between his legs, the heat of him palpable. Eddie throws his arms over his head and remembers to breathe. Richie’s hands follow his, pinning them to the headboard, mouth trailing down his neck and latching on. 

They have all the time in the world, but after four days apart, things seem urgent. Panic creeps across Eddie’s chest, and he needs… something. 

“Rich, I. Can you- I need-” he can’t get the words out, doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, but Richie knows him, always.

“I’ve got you,” he says, capturing Eddie’s lips between words, “I’ll take care of you, Eds.” 

He slots their mouths together and Eddie wraps his legs around Richie’s middle. It makes him feel small, but sometimes he likes it. They get lost in the feel of each other, and when Richie shifts slightly to reach a hand down to Eddie’s cock, he feels dizzy with need. He grips at the back of Richie’s neck, wanting him as close as possible as Richie strokes him in long, slow movements. 

Everything falls away when Richie’s kissing him, touching him, making love to him, and the relief of it all is too much to bear. 

“Want you,” Eddie says, squirming under Richie. He wants to get closer, wants to dissolve and let Richie absorb him if it means he can feel more of him. Richie nods, loosening his grip on Eddie’s dick so he can reach toward the bedside table for a condom. Eddie catches him around the wrist, shaking his head. 

“Don’t,” he sighs, and arches his back, wanting to feel him. Richie kisses him, overcome, and Eddie tries to quiet the voice in his head that tells him he’s dirty. He wants his husband inside him, nothing between them, nothing stopping him from feeling everything. Richie is always so good to him. He loves him so much, and even when he’s teasing him relentlessly, Eddie knows it’s all affection. There’s no one who loves as deeply as Richie Tozier, even if he’s an immature idiot about it most of the time. 

Eddie grinds up against Richie’s stomach to relieve some pressure and they both moan at the feeling. Richie’s hand snakes down his body again, giving his cock a quick stroke before bending Eddie’s knee toward his chest. They both stop at the same time, remembering that lube exists and that they definitely need it. Offering an apologetic smile, Richie rummages for the bottle in the drawer and coats his fingers, a sympathetic hand pressed to Eddie’s hip. 

Two fingers press into him all at once. Eddie loves the stretch. He clings to Richie wherever he can, his arms, his back, tonguing at his lips to draw him back in for a kiss.

Impatience and the creeping need in his belly mean he’s ready quickly. Richie’s hand is palming the back of his thigh, spreading him out. He reaches down to stroke Richie and his dick pulses at the feeling of him, hot and hard in his fingers. That needs to be inside him _ now_. 

“_Want _ you, baby,” he says again, feeling sappy and smug and half-broken, and Richie smiles, big and real, and Eddie can’t stop kissing him.

By the time Richie pushes in, Eddie is trembling. The two of them breathe on beat, until Richie risks moving, grappling at Eddie’s thighs. Soon he’s thrusting in perfectly, and Eddie is close so soon, can barely hold on to let it last, but he sees how hard Richie is concentrating on keeping it together, a hard pinch in his brow. Richie hikes a knee over his shoulder and jerks at Eddie’s cock, his mouth falling open. 

They’re very rarely this quiet, this focused, but Eddie can’t stop watching Richie. 

Eddie loves their banter, will yell at Richie until the day he dies, and maybe even beyond, but something about connecting this way, completely and totally, shuts them the hell up. Dirty talk releases a part of Eddie he didn’t know existed. He loves hearing Richie’s deepest, darkest fantasies, breathed in his ear while he’s inside him, nothing he’s been able to say for forty years, and now is all his. They share things neither of them knew lay dormant, weaving them together in intangible ways. 

But now, in their house, in their bed, their pain laid bare, it feels like an unspoken promise kept. Eddie can’t begin to comprehend how they found each other again, how this all fell into place. He watches Richie come apart above him, lighting him up from the inside, shaking and reaching for him, the only home they’ve ever known in each other. 

Eddie holds him after, still connected, breathing until they feel safe enough to let go. Richie lifts his head to look in Eddie’s eyes, ghosting his thumb over the scar on his cheek. The gash in the middle of Eddie’s chest stings in tandem. Old wounds that might never heal, soothed with a loving touch. 

Resting his head on Eddie’s chest, Richie sighs. 

“I think this is my favorite room,” he says dreamily. Eddie smiles, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head of hair. 

“Were the rooms competing?” 

“Well, yeah,” Richie scoffs, incredulous. 

“We did not agree to those terms. It was a _ dare_. Not a contest.” 

“Eds, what would be the point?”

“Christening the house! That’s what you said!”

“Blatant lies.” 

Eddie forces a breath out through his nose, calming his hammering pulse. Richie sneaks a kiss to the tip of his nose, laughing, some sort of peace offering. Eddie shakes his head.

“Three hundred bucks for a mirror and you still pick our bedroom.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you like my writing you can try out my longer, more plotty porn fics, [the night we met (take me back)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784567) or my rom-com AU [This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323910/chapters/53324413). My name is [tinyangryeddie](https://tinyangryeddie.tumblr.com/)! on Tumblr if you wanna find me there!


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